


Ruby Quartz

by hollowbethy



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Characters will add up as the chapter goes, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-19 10:37:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7357876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollowbethy/pseuds/hollowbethy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I didn’t want to be a cop.</p><p>What else would make your life more fruitful than swearing to the public you’d protect them with your utmost abilities while being suppressed by the commons with your gifts given by God himself? Or if you don’t believe in Him, it was a gift swallow that shit up. I became a cop to serve, and protect those who are oppressed--or simply this would do: because it’s the only thing that came up in my mind when I got out of the orphanage. There's more to that really but, you know, it's not the best thing, but it's fun.</p><p>In which Scott Summers is a cop in Westchester County Police, with his pals. Of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's None Of Your Business

He wears his custom-made ruby quartz sunglasses in which he bought from his first salary as an officer and goes into the interrogation room. All he desired was to finish this interrogation to finally get some time to rest before another assignment is assigned to him since the joint investigation of this case was finished and brought back to the White Plains, New York Police Department. They only needed a wider range of manhunt from this murderer who was a loving husband and father but killed his daughter for being a mutant.

This is what he hates most, but tolerance is his best suit in all circumstances.

First thing the man uttered with his bright façade. “Why are you wearing sunglasses?"

He slams both of his hands on the table and says with sarcasm "It's none of your business" and his eyes flashes a twitch of red beam, sit back for the show was about to begin.

* * *

 

It’s Scott Summers, mostly called the four-eyed weird kid who keeps on stumbling on his shoelace because of a sneaky ass named Pietro Maximoff who eventually became his colleague in the force would untie his utmost treasure from his mother who died in an airplane crash. One fall, two feet rises to take vengeance to the furious man who he never had much in common yet eventually agreed upon terms of their relative relationship withholding their commonality: a mutant.  First, in the town he was from he never knew what would the opinion about the world in his manifesting abilities and thank the heavens it granted his wish, in the most expected way possible: destroying a whole wing of the orphanage leading to his detentions and maltreatment. His eyes can’t see unless he opens them but the optic blast Pietro mentioned to him makes him a weapon he was labeled by one of the orphanage caretakers. He thought his life would be over, until a man he never had a chance of have a name for gave him these ruby quartz glasses preventing from harming anyone. True that made his life sigh for a while with the turmoil it had gained on his list but after that, he couldn’t care less.

He was done with these games; he’d be done by it by reaching the proper age.

He was fostered into the Maximoff home, where Pietro found out was his surname came from but had no evidences of any of his parents or origin. This is where the adult orphans were housed, and Scott couldn’t take anything as much obligation to follow orders or regulations if discrimination persists, longing for what he may not pinpoint but a said belonging to a community of friends. He only had Pietro, but as much as him he is as well oppressed by many with it comes not only on the social welfare home but as well in the workforce. So he moved out without telling his old pal about his plans. One day, while he was working in a doughnut shop he was in hostage with a few civilians and a cop who was out of duty who eventually became the one who asked is he’s willing to apply in the force, and her name was then, Detective, now Superintendent of Police Emma Frost of the Westchester County Police, Troop K.

“I’m not offering myself, but why are you keeping us here in this doughnut shop so desperately?” Scott’s hands were on his head, asked to kneel down while a gun is pointed directly on his head.

“You’re not giving anything. You don’t even open the cashier for us, and that all the workers here do.”

“Then, why are they involved?”

Everyone in the store were terrified, shook and only forced to offer their belongings as the price of compliance and not mentioning their wrongdoing to any authority. Scott Summers was the only one who didn’t, and Frost who kept his mouth shut in the whole process, she thought he’d play along before making the call (even he wasn’t a fan of it), yet someone did made the call out of spite.

“Is there anything you’re keeping from us?”

Scott smirked. “What am I to keep? I only sell donuts to survive and you take the guts to take the road to hell.”

The hostage takers chuckled and one of them addressed the obvious.

“Are you blind?”

“I can see you clearly. Bright as day.”

“Then why are you wearing glasses in this godly hour—” and as he removes the glasses from his face they blasted out of the room leaving others startled, shunned and the cop as mesmerized as what she witnessed that would eventually contribute on the shift of events in his life.

* * *

 

Emma Frost was in the observation room with his colleagues Detective Sergeant Azazel (he doesn’t want to say his surname) and Deputy Chief of Police Erik Lehnsherr.

“What is the point of this? Why are you making him interrogate a human, isn’t a violation of our regulations that we should make the interactions with the same species?” Azazel said with his arms crossed overlooking through the tinted glass window of the interrogation room.

“Species.” Erik chuckled, texting his husband Charles who was excited for his homecoming from their week long pressed duties from the Chief Officer who was sitting and rubbing her fingers. She replied “It doesn’t necessarily prevent us from interrogating a suspect, after all he killed a mutant.”

Erik snapped his free hands and pointed at her “Point taken, unless we commit violence to our suspects we are not violating any code. Will you excuse me? I got take a call from Francis.”

Exiting the said room, Azazel walked on his way near the door and said.  “You like him don’t you?”

“It’s none of your business.” She pressed the button to the earpiece that was attached to Scott and said. “On cue.”  

“I’m Detective Inspector Summers, shall we begin?”


	2. Involved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here we are once again for another chapter of the Scott Summers Cop AU. Since I began my Twitter break and I found myself doodling on my journal and not contemplating for a bit of time with the stress all around me, so here isthe product! Enjoy! http://hollowbethy.tumblr.com/post/147170059774/i-tried-doing-art-this-time-since-im-on-a

Scott lies back to his office chair and turns to the table at the right side of the room, it may not be spacious enough they could offer him but it keeps out of the pool and as well with the obnoxious newbies who roam around like they already earned their reputation. Back in the day no one aspired to be a police officer, it’s a life or death job that only those who are capable to endure witnessing crime, obeying numerous laws and what else it offers—tolerating them he puts it—are able to surpass the ranks they indicated on their hierarchy. Most of the policemen are stagnant to their ranks, specially the abundance of officers because 1) bribing may at least sustain your minimum wage salary 2) it’s a reputation in any way that’s honorable, fueling the ego per se and 3) it’s the easiest thing asides from the numerous amounts of processes of promotion. Scott was always noble and loyal obeying terms and regulations, the only way he permits being commanded by that is why he was promoted. It was his asset anyway, sort of a talent that developed during childhood in the orphanage, but sometimes when there were circumstances in need of one’s decisions it takes him a verge withstanding before deciding the right thing to do, perceived as a being decisive by his allies, otherwise as baffled. True, Scott was rubbish in decision making, but that made sense about autonomy, when all regulations are out of the context, it was the answer.

A sly (he calls him) knocked on his door and smirked with a coffee and a case file on his both hands. Someone’s in a good mood he smiled. “Mind the talk?”

Scott was glad of his presence and threw the coffee to the plant near the counter where the coffee maker resides. It was fake, anyway. Just like Warren, AWOL. “The good coffee, yes?”

 

Pietro intended to use his abilities to annoy or impress Scott, putting the coffee down on his table and grabs the pretentious coffee on the counter, pouring himself one as an exchange (he prefers a cheap coffee from the supermarket bought in bundles and reminds him of what he likes about being in the Maximoff center, well he was treated properly there because of his surname) and he sat with his arms stretched, on the small sewn couch they got from a thrift shop when Kitty mentioned on how empty was his room that when she phases through it’s wall, she falls. “Soft couch, Kitty should have been an interior designer.”

“She needed money.”

“Passion also comes with money.”

“Not all of it.” Scott sips on his coffee, glad to have his friend on his side. Deputy Sheriff Maximoff did earn some reputation when they all figured he was associated mostly with the man on the doughnut store who became a police officer after saving lives in that said hostage taking. Everyone witnessed it, even on the local television, everything from the optic blast bringing collateral damage to the said establishment he paid for. In addition, the hospital where he was given aid and examinations about his abilities and whoever gave him the ruby quartz he was wearing was in question.

He could specifically recalled that day of finally being able to meet his long lost brother from another mother. Pietro on the halls hollering his names and running in normal speed, trying to prevent anyone from fumbling with all the bed on his way, or at least he attempts. Panting and exasperated by the amount of process he had to go through only to him and slapped him on the head for affection he had longed to express. It’s always the story he won’t be able to mention, and if he will ever he hopes it won’t be late.

“I got a case.” Throwing the folder near on his coffee on the verge of the table, he flipped it opened and skimmed. “That’s the new case I was talking about on the phone.”

His brows creased and glanced back at him. “Who gave you this?”

“Wagner.”

“Wagner…” He chuckled, reminding himself of his colleague who used to be his pals alongside of Howlett who has the same rank as his as of late. Wagner remained into being a Detective Sergeant due to various issues, discrimination even among the police force about how mutants are becoming superiors, which isn’t supposed to be a big deal but since they cannot diminish values learned from experiences or inferiority along colleagues, Frost decided to suspend it indefinitely.  Since then, Kurt Wagner settled for the position but handed with cases in which were supposed to be administered with his supposed rank. “He decided to….”

“Yeah, since he thinks I’m the most irresistible one on the list.”

“That’s cute.” He smirked.

“So, what do you think? Are you in?” He sipped again, and raised his brows.

“If Kurt’s in it, sure.”

“You’re done with the case recently? Yeah?”

“Fuck holidays. Call Wagner we’re going.”

Detective Inspector Summers’s job description enumerates the following obligations: administering investigations, directly submits the reports to the chief of police Lehnsherr or even when the Superintendent is present in which he could count in his hands. That woman is always a busybody Howlett and he points out every time she shows up in the meeting, alongside two secretaries namely Kitty who always brings him a special assignment to accomplish asides from seeing everything from the television or social media and the other woman he forgot the name for and oh, he was second in command of detective sergeants. Right as this moment, he wasn’t supposed to be with anyone but what else is fun to do when your human superiors don’t assign anything in your division?  Get into someone’s business.

They were driving from the station to the isolated forest of the ends of Westchester after another coffee break. Now with Wagner while he browses the certain files he acquired from the evidence room.  Scott said, on the steering wheel glancing on the rear window. “I thought you were done filtering his data on the interface?”

“Cerebro effed up, couldn’t find any luck-Gracious Heavens!”

Pietro jolted, and also glanced back from his shot gun sit looking over Kurt surrounded by piles of folders and boxes filled with evidences asides from Scott’s—and his clutter. “What?”

“I spilled coffee…from this case file.”

“Goddamnit!” Pietro whines in which he gets a loud groan from the man with a tail and flashed his fangs.

Scott likes these things, it gives him a relief even with the amount of anxiety of what to unravel once more with it comes to another crime. And the spilled coffee of course.

* * *

 

They pulled over into school parking lot where the crime scene was, their superiors commanded the case was just another incident of personal issue in which will be disregarded due to the family’s decision, knowing who might have killed the said teacher who was murdered in the case during break. Cases making the scene of the television are supervised by their, you’ve guessed it, human superiors and their minions and they are passed on when they think it’s just another flop of humanity, usual things they say when something out of comprehension is in context. Howlett, or Logan as he prefers as his name instead of James sense the peculiarity of things when everyone pulls out, on the contrary he didn’t settle as a police officer after being a long time military man hiding his way to the 21st century for this. The only man who had lived for so much long everyone’s afraid of him, and he’s the one who holds up the reputation of the mutants in the force asides from Frost, Lehnsherr and…of course… Summers.  Kurt teleports in every ceiling/wall/floor as soon as they walk a half meter away while the students wondered why was the police force—mutant police force in their school after a week of the said case, closing the premises. Scott knocks on the principal’s office when her secretary disregarded their polite approach, and when he opens the door a red-haired woman was standing on the window overlooking to the parking lot.

“I was expecting you’d all come, where’s Erik?”

Jean Grey, the head mistress of North Salem School in Westchester faced their way queuing their permission to settle on the couches. She telekinetically closed the door and flipped the signage _Break_ keeping the secretary out of the office for her inspection or business asides from answering calls while she’s away. This time would be longer and Jean sends to a mental message that she could even get out of work, and she senses a flourishing relief on her link, from the report the secretary has not submitted since last week.

“With Francis.”

“Charles, not Francis.” Jean points her index finger and made Logan who was leaning on the doorway smirked. Scott was helping the apologetic Kurt to spread the sheets out of the folder that had stains from the coffee spill. “Seems like you had a bad luck out of that file.”

“It’s not important anyway.” Kurt tried to smile, yet he was a transparent being and it reflects that he is guilty about such mistake being made in front of his superior. On the other hand, Scott was easing up his anger and projected _it was done_ to Jean who almost pressed him with questions mentally.

Pietro noticed the link, reviving his when they were all in good terms. “Mind sharing the conversation with us? It’s not just you and him here.”

Scott glanced at him, how arrogant and oblivious, he thought. He shouldn’t act so casually with the matters in hand but a certain memory in which he didn’t want to think about at the presence of the woman he used to be with resonated. He surrenders and grasp on the deceived man and who mimicked his sign of the Cross to compensate on the sudden shift of mood inside the room, being displaced with the embarrassment

Jean answered “I know what you wanted to know.”

“Did you tell the troop?” Logan bounces at the side chair beside Scott and laid back, while Pietro’s attention was on the window where there are now students roaming. “No, but they seemed to be…suspicious about my secrecy.”

“You had cases back then, supposed they think you’re not doing your job.” Pietro dismissively answered, Jean fixes her position in her office chair and lays her chin from her tangled fingers, and someone really holds a grunt for his brother as she chuckles. “I’m doing my job, Pietro. It doesn’t mean I’m being oblivious already.”

“So you said you were away, my friend?”  Kurt piling the unstained sheets and putting them aside of the coffee table separating him and Scott, and he gets a glare from the opposite party. “I was. Again.”

“So by the time this happened you were in…?” Scott’s voice was furious. And she knows how his intention whenever urgent sounds authoritative when honesty is in demand, and that was the change she’ll never get over with. But what the hell, why is she assessing him—was it because she was actually on a business trip with a new man she was with? “I was in a seminar in Florida.”

 _False._ Scott’s thoughts shunned her and they looked at each other before dismissing the topic.

“Florida.” Logan huffed, grinding his toothpick between his teeth.

“I was, and it was for the school’s sake. We need to update our curriculum by the next year and of course, the mutant segregation and coexistence once again became a topic when I came up.”

“Yeah, Kelly’s always has his way when we’re around.”

 They sighed in unison, another signal that they are all actually concerned about what actually occurred on the murder. Kurt had a giggle that lightened up the mood for a bit, and they got down to business. The crime scene was at the east wing of the school, and after the shooting they closed half of the wing even if they were already permitted to clear the area, saving the information for the Summers division of the Westchester County Police Department to investigate, and hoping for another finished case thrown to the faces of their oppressors, and to say another _We did it again, motherfuckers._

 _“_ It can’t be. You were really away?” Overlooking the cleaned floor that was filled with blood on Kurt’s photographic evidence folder from fishing taking at least a 30 minute break for Pietro to grab a soda from a vending machine they donated for the school. Scott frowns, picturing the resemblance of the picture and the pavement and pushes back his quart glasses to look at Logan who was reading the case file.

“You think this was something?”

“I think...” a pause on a certain sentence squint his eyes, and closed the folder to pursue his lips and point out at the pictures Kurt was holding. “…did they say a bullet?”

“No bullet.” Pietro squatted and lights his flashlight to see the marks in which wasn’t brushed. “Tell your ex-girlfriend’s janitor to use Clorox on this, it smells like Kurt.” Earning a frown from Jean, Scott didn’t ignore the fact he had been dragging her out of her temper.

“Kurt is in no way stench, Pietro.  No bullet you say?”

Logan replied. “Upon autopsy there was a hole on her occipital bone, shot from the back but the bullet disintegrated…I assume.  Unusual gun powder, not really gun but more of a chemical tube on a bullet melting on her woozy brain.”

“How snazzy.” Kurt drew his lips back and teleported beside Pietro, the stench scooting him and he paced out beside Scott almost losing his balance.

“It diluted? It killed the woman.”

“Unless we’re here again for another case involving us, we are not touching anything.”

“It’s good you know, to know a lot of our cases relates to us.” Kurt replied, and another thrown glare from Pietro.

“Maybe a little too related.” Logan answered, referring to Jean. The woman knows something they don’t, she always does. With the idle gestures she was making and nail biting while her arms are crossed, he insisted “Spill it out cherrypie.”

“They are accusing me in this case if ever I hid it, without the bullet, they think it’s a bow or whatever technology they don’t have in their database. Basically they don’t want to touch anymore pads or…you know, organizations with covert operations. Just my theory.”

Scott replied, having a grasp on her stance. It didn’t cease her from not making any contact and releasing stress on her fragile nails. “Woman’s a mutant? I assume.”

“She didn’t state her race, for her she thinks it doesn’t matter.” Playing with her hair, he notices Pietro doing the assessment as well that he elbowed his ribs and jerking his head towards her.

“It isn’t on the file, but what the theory we have may possibly be the case. She’s a mutant…but how come the bullet is gone?”

Kurt answered the inquiry. “It says her body died by a poison in which was induced to her.”

“Chemical inside—now a poison, in a bullet and a mutant who was killed on site.”

A moment of silence, staring on the said place where the woman dropped with her books and lesson plans for the future days gone after the occurrence of this incident. Their thoughts revolving around one single question: where did the bullet go? Sure, no one knows their anatomy since most of them were only introduced to the basics of the body and a hole on the back head bone—occipital bone in jargon’s term—would definitely kill a person if that’s a bullet. Kurt was already worried since it has been already a week since the incident happened and they already buried the body of the woman, it would be a tough job to press onto the mortgage of the hospital where they brought her in such terms since termination of proceedings were approved by the court and unless with the consent of the family members of the victim, they are doomed as ever. Unless, luck comes right down from the heavens.

Scott’s phone rings, it was Mccoy.


	3. A Common Scenario

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art will come soon enough when I finish my preliminary exams. Forgive me for my errors, this is a rush post and soon enough I will attempt on fixing them. https://twitter.com/hollowbethy/status/753933940398764035 this is the teaser for the next one so here's a new chapter before that!

There are three things that meant a _common scenario_ to Erik Lehnsherr: those he disregards especially the cases at hand, sanctions to officers who their malicious actions were foreseeable, and he could take a day to mention about the things he doesn’t care about. What’s important is the other meaning of the phrase, which is an irony that was stated bluntly by Logan over Saturday Night Barbeque they had months ago but he already had it in mind without a label. Now he tries his best not to feel guilt about not thinking about it first, not that he is mad about the old man but c’mon, he had more chances to formulate one.

Dwelling aside, they have the same perspective with it comes to situations involving mutants and human… deception. Such camaraderie still perceives by his husband Charles is absurd. But violence won’t always be an answer that’s why he entered the force, to serve and protect the minority. He was about to become a lawyer, but being alone in a country he didn’t even desire to be in was a struggle to enroll himself into law school with the amount of money left from his mother’s account when she was still alive. A life full of joyous commercial breaks and series of despair accommodated his mind set of how life actually is, but that doesn’t mean he gave up on it though.

For it doesn’t end, and it’s the least he could do when he was still young and thriving.

The only mutants during his academy days and as an officer were Frost, Az, Braddock, Cassidy and that asshole named Worthington. They had tried not mentioning about what they were since they don’t even know if they were mutants since they were in different troops, but blending in didn’t satisfied Erik. During a tremendous amount of rain was raging while they were in the training grounds where the intermediate obstacle course was located, he was waiting for the previous troop to finish when a comrade fell from the 40 feet rock climbing course. The people holding on rocks were shunned they didn’t move a muscle, even the strong winds were deafening by the moment he did, as if they were all awaiting his fall for they’d also risk their lives saving a person they might be fighting for a position one day.

All selfishness revealed upon the leash, and the asshole rescued him despite the loss of velocity for flight for his wings and falling into the mud pool filled with accumulated rain. That day changed their course of…what he calls now as a resonated scrutiny.

While he was afloat in his office lying on his back reading the code case thrown in the pool of evidences he was choosing over his vinyl collection at his office to play for the day’s work. 3 hours ago he dropped Charles in the hospital for his 3-day shift at the neonatal ward, and 2 hours ago he just got his nap from being awake for almost 24 hours due to the transfer of investigations from the case they were trying to solve. All he needed was a rest when he was roaming around the station when he saw a case folder falling from one of the officers who were rushing their way to an office of a colleague and grabbed t to his office for something to do. He usually supervises as much as he could but in a county almost full of petty crimes he isn’t in any use unless a state investigation is conducted.

All he wants was to lie down on bed with Charles hearing him talk about the neonate patients he has and how long and short their durations were while eating the sinful alleged addiction of his husband, cookie dough mix.

But there’s one thing that keeps him on the loop, with the rank he has attained he has the connections for those cases involving the same race that he has. First we might as well address that he has revealed himself as a mutant since his training days and so he became one of those that even if his deeds were levitating and brought honor to the force he’ll remain as a competitor of survival of species, as they call it. Bishop who was in the higher ranks as his for a short amount of time gave him the courage to disregard the prejudice assholes who think they are deceived.

A good fella, and a time traveler in which his kids will be able to witness and should be friends with.

But there isn’t as much more discrimination to the office than into the streets, where minority lies in the spectrum. A revolving world filled with labels and differences triggers a taunting chaos neglecting comprehension and acceptance, if he was to ask he believes in that people never had been used of the word change, or difference, hesitates at which they do not understand. It’s a nature to keep in mind, and what drives him, for the betterment of his race he must serve to his extent and if, if only, violence was the measure he is given, it’s all or nothing.

(Bonus rule: Charles is only in one category of a common scenario, in which helps them in a lot of ways their professional life’s colliding in one place.)

“Erik sit down on a chair.” Emma after the door closed, with her hands crossed and shifting weight on her right side. He returns to a chair and lifts the vinyl player by a flicker of a hand.

“What’s up?”

“What are you reading?”

“A mutant was shot dead in Jean’s school? How come no one has ever told me?”

She approaches his desk and tries not to grab the stash of cigarettes lying on the edge, near his name plate. “Told me it was a code case, immediately issued by Bart.”

“Bart doesn’t even have the—”

“I know right? And further, they said there wasn’t any bullet. How come she died on site and a hole at the back of her head, so what’s the verdict attorney?”

“I have left that course in my life and settled for something I think would benefit us.”

“That’s what I told myself when I entered the force. How hard it is to just be sitting around on your office waiting for the president or your state superior to call you for a meeting about regulations and inspections of offices, and only to be necessary when they desperately need your powers for an information.”

He huffed, for he knows as much further as she does, but she got the job while he remains here, closer to his colleagues, his fellow mutant force who has the same goal as he. “I told you, don’t comply.”

“Compliance is sometimes the only key, jackass. I keep them out of my loop, it keeps them out of the complaining bubble. Beneficial.”

“What are you contributing to our cause…anyway?”

Her mischievous smile caught Erik scowled and thinking of what could it possibly be, true Emma can be reckless about using her powers to fool him around about unnecessary babbles since she cannot grasp Scott’s attention when he’s out and about. But a smoking Emma Frost doesn’t hesitate, and that’s what he likes about her.

She’s direct to the point.

“What now Erik?”

After some moments he collects his thoughts, he answers a question of assurance. “Is this what am I thinking?”

Before Emma uttered the words she wanted to confirm, she slides her hands on the table with a swift object hidden on her prone hand, and when their eyes met they both smirked and said to one another.

“It’s a common scenario.”

"Glad to comply."

* * *

 

Dr. Henry Philip Mccoy was alone at the forensic laboratory which where he was investigating about the said file in the disregarded files shelf, specifically in the center of the occipital bone and tests to validate from the first and rushed results from his colleague who wanted to proceed to his holidays. He doesn’t hate anyone in the force, nor tries to conceal the grudge that he was supposed to have for he believes he can’t please other people with their opinions and perspectives in lives. Coexisting with others with his furry blue appearance may seem to be difficult, since the discrimination still prevails yet he remained humble until much time he knew the Westchester County Police Department.

“Hello, Scott?”

“What’s up Hank?” They call him Hank, the only people who calls him in his preferred nickname asides from: Blue guy, Beast and more in the list he doesn’t care much of.

“I’m at the lab and just to inform you the body you were trying to access has already been brought to the morgue, no one’s picking it up they are deciding to send it to the... pool.”

 _Pool, you mean the formalin pool._ Scott thought, skimming over the files being showed to him while they were still at the crime scene. “When are they doing it?”

“If you don’t file the follow up of this case.”

“We got the case.”

“You don’t have any approval from the—”

Deputy Chief Lehnsherr knocked from the glass window for entry and when their eyes met and he jerked his head while pacing around his lab, the door opened without any hand contact from the knob. He was with Deputy Lieutenant Elizabeth Braddock, Betsy in short, a longtime colleague, or a work wife if you ask some people like Pietro.  “Boss is here, I’ll keep in to—”

“Hank—”

He hangs up and drops his new phone at the scattered paperwork on his desk and straightens the crease of his coat before approaching them at the aisle of the covered bodies and empty steel tables outside of his office. The room was dimly lit, only the lamp light on his desk and an x-ray light box with nothing to show for.

“Never thought of seeing the sun?” The dark-haired woman with a Japanese accent said.

“My work hours are double as yours, when someone calls me I come right up. Unlike you.”

Betsy provided the light from her abilities and leaned her hips on the steel table. “Here comes the sun.”

“You’re not Phoenix.”

“Don’t make that joke, it’s not funny.”

“Do you even have a right to ditch me around?’

They both went silent when Erik cleared his throat, jerked his head and crossed his arms. “What are you doing?”

“Just fixing things. What brought you here?” He proceeds back to the office cubicle and they were led to sit down. “Fancy a coffee?”

“No, we’re here for a favor.”

“In what concern does bring the Deputy Chief in the forensic laboratory and his associate if they had been reluctant about my certain importance in this field that may jeopardize any investigation if it weren’t present?”

“Take it down Beast.” Betsy making coffee for herself, turning her head and smiling to intimidate. It doesn’t work anymore, but it is still something to be cringe-worthy for. Erik brushed his hair and laid back to the sit he was sitting and after stretch he puts his hands right to his pockets fishing for something. Betsy squinted and quickly smirked before sipping on her freshly made coffee, which tasted better rather than the cafeteria supplies from the sponsored supermarket, they had been asking for refunds for the lack of supply.

“Here we are again, Ms. Braddock. Just because Warren just gone AWOL.”

“Why are you bringing such a sensitive topic now, Mccoy?”

“How offensive of you not thinking of the consequences you make from just being yourself.”

“Who has the upper hand?”

“No one has the upper hand here.” Stern voice from the man reaching further to his second set of pockets from his jacket throws out a USB that almost fell from the table, luckily the Beast caught it mid-air.

“What is this?”

“Common scenario, have you forgotten?”

“What common scenario?”

Betsy answered. “What’s with you Hank? Forgotten that your colleagues like McTaggert and Corbeau still keep secrets from you?”

Hank shakes his head, becoming restless of the said fact he shrugged off a long time ago. “It can’t be, we had been solving cases for quite a long time now.”

The face of the woman serious, she deeply breathes in before saying. “I’m just being blunt, Hank. Keep it real will you?”

His palm grasps his whole face and his lips drawn back, frowning upon facing Erik and slamming the table. Betrayal has become one of his life experiences he likes to mask with uncertain trust from others, but no matter what he attempts onto pleasing others he is still caught from vulnerability. The two people in front of him weren’t surprised for this reaction, and waited for his response.  “What’s in it?”

“Like I said—” leaning his head towards his, his teeth clench and fiery upon his blue eyes. “— **common scenario**.”

* * *

 

Scott was flipping another page of the case file on a parking lot of the hospital when a familiar car horned and parked beside his, he was still with his pals inside the car while Logan lays his arms on the roof of his car, talking to Kurt about last Sunday’s event in church. Pietro was browsing over his phone when Erik offered dismissively a cigarette stick and receiving a response of.  “Sorry, don’t smoke.”

“Okay then.” He lights his cigarette from Logan’s lighter that was passed to him and Scott got out of his car to converse with his boss. “Good to see you, Erik.”

“Hello Scott.”

The young man never ever knew the story behind Erik, asides from facts that he is a German who ran away from his abusers and having a husband named Charles from the Saturday Barbeque Night, nothing else is revealed. True, he sees him wearing turtle necks and lock plaid shirts in casual days that he tried imitating on how he dress just to grab his attention but no luck as attained. There are only two things he considers as their mutuality (and he thinks it’s more important than knowing someone’s past if not he becomes comfortable of mentioning about it) are: he buys him frames with custom-made ruby quartz that is deducted to his salary whenever his glasses are about to break, and most of all they are both mutants with the same perspective and their concern about the minority is uncanny.

“Why did you call us here? Where’s Hank?”

“Hank went home, he had done his job.”

Pietro cleared his throat and he received a wincing glance from the both people outside of the car. “What are we doing here?”

“Inside of the station, I’m your boss and now you’re going to disrespect me even if we’re outside of the protocol?”

“Mind you, we were on our way to sleep.” That was a fact, Scott and Pietro were out of duty after they went to the crime scene but still in the covert investigation that was showed to him this morning. For the others, they received a separate call from Erik himself commanding their presence at the middle of the night in the hospital where his husband works. “I know that, but Hank informed you about it yes?”

Scott replied while holding his waist, sighing beforehand. “He did, all we got to do is to extend the duration but we don’t have any paper work that’ll solidify such request, and even if we do, it may be too late.”

Kurt turned his head and said. “The file said the woman had family, but how come they dismissed this so quickly and receiving a call that she’s being thrown to the pool?”

“Pool?” Erik flinched, in what he knows the pool is where the cadavers are placed.  “the pool? This is absurd.”

“I know, so what are we doing here?” Pietro didn’t even need to ask but Erik has a solution that Logan smirked and smoked another stick before they went inside the hospital.

“Should I say it?”

Erik quickly responded. “No.”

 


	4. See The Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Charles I would like to make a proposal for you, I hope you'll be able to comprehend the current situation we are facing since we had been doing this for years and it's all on me."  
> "You didn't even need to tell me, you always don't obey upon my terms."  
> "Darling, you know what this means."  
> "I still don't like your proposition." As Charles crossed his arms lifted his whole weight back to the right leg, then Erik leaned his face towards him until there was an inch to it. "No cookie dough for a month."  
> "Erik!"  
> "Two, months."  
> "Fine fine!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally I am back! Kind of took a turn of events until I finally finished the art, so here it is! http://hollowbethy.tumblr.com/post/148581102889/new-chapter-of-ruby-quartz-finally-a-short-one

“It’s a common scenario.”

“You don’t know what I’m risking here! Erik—just hold my hand!”

There’s an unspoken, unuttered, undeclared rule that is well-known to these mutants who are rushing their way to the morgue department. Everyone knows this since they were all children threatened to be exterminated the moment they manifested: never use your gifts in vain or violence unless in necessary measures. Like for self-defense or on the verge of death. But in this same manner, do these people who made the rules themselves, know what’s the limit with all of the actions they are making?

A common scenario may count as a _necessary measure_.

Common scenario, defined by Scott Summers is a code red. Ironically labeled with the vision he has after he turned 10, it is a combination of human ignorance to comprehension and defending it’s out of their spectrum of coherency leaving them doing the dirty work. If he’s only able to show his eye roll whenever someone states their indifference to necessary things at hand.

Actually, he admits he doesn’t even know what’s bound for them to discover, as always. Yet that thrills him, with the relevance of his race added in the equation hypothetically. Why would someone shoot a woman with a special kind of bullet that dilutes when entering a biological organism?

How come he came up with that hypothesis again? He had been through a lot, thanks to Emma.

Scott meant _Superintendent Frost._ He really should focus on what’s now.

“What a common scenario.” He utters with ease after the telepath they are with, Nurse Charles Xavier, pushed the swing door and sent a mental message to keep quiet until they have reached the storage room. Once his eyes met the receptionist jotting down records and encoding them one by one he commands.

“Go on a break.”

Erik responded “Ugh, I’m so turned on right now.”

“Not helpful, Erik.”

The laugh will be expressed later on after their walk to the hall filled with tension arising from their shoulders. On their side there are bodies on standby, some are on their way to the pool further down the basement and others are to be delivered to the police station for the forensics.

“Outgoing specimens.” Charles said referring to Pietro peeking over the exposed wrists with tags of serial codes for encoded bodies and particular names. “Do you like it here? Cause I think you do.”

“Is this the new kid?” Charles scowled at Erik and he nodded with a smirk to Pietro leaving him with a frowning face.

Scott said. “Where are we going now?”

“Since she’s being sent to the pool, I think we can look… here!” Pointing to the 4th door they almost passed by. At the window of the door, he peeked and glanced to his husband to open the doors without any fingerprints to leave. Erik has been having the time of his life trying to manipulate every metal he senses just to hinder detection, like locking the whole morgue department for example. State the obvious.

As the door opened, the stench welcomed them. Kurt immediately teleported a meter away from his location and others backed out, and the only one who remained was Charles who grabbed the M-95 masks for their cover.

“I sincerely apologize for this. Since…most of you are new to this.”

Pietro replied while coughing before wearing the mask. “You had been doing this Scott?”

“We do, but we never asked Kurt to come or anyone else.”

Kurt replied. “Help these bodies and have mercy upon them.”

Logan needed the mask most, and didn’t speak for the whole time until he received it. Complaining ain’t going to work in this kind of environment so he has to tolerate as ever.

Erik stepped in the room and looked for the steel table where they could find the body but that’s out of his capabilities as of the moment until they find it, Charles stands up beside him and asked. “Do you want me to find in the records?”

“Someone has been here. Logan, can you detect another smell?”

Logan sniffed and wondered how much does his mask filter can handle it, but he could…smell another scent vanishing. “I could.”

Pietro rushed to the computer table and saw that the transformer of the computer was on, waiting for someone to push the buttons of the CPU case. His hands. Although he hesitates when Kurt held his wrist, an inch away from the force tempting him to do so. Then the one holding him hand slips to the monitor where when he pressed the power button and encoded files flashed on the screen.

“That’s so bright.” Pietro said, and Kurt laughs.

“You don’t know computers?”

“I just thought it was turned off.”

“I tried my best to help.”

Scott approached the computer and sat at the office table. “Can I? Charles?”

Charles faced him after mumbling arguments to his husband who was ever calm in situations he shouldn’t be. “What, Mr. Summers?”

“Can I look for the body here?”

“You’ll need to log in with credentials.”

Logan dug his hands on his pockets where all of the important things in his life are located like his keys and tobacco kit. When he pulled it out he handed an old identification card with a specific code to type for access and he doesn’t care who it came from anymore. Sides, it was a hook up from one of his lavish encounters he doesn’t want to know.

How did he know?

Scott never wanted to know. He gawked through the screen with Pietro who was skimming over the folders he picked up across the table while Kurt scrolls all through the records with only three fingers on the mouse, and that doesn’t limit him since he had been thrown in and out of the typing pool out of no reason. The keyboard specialist doesn’t even bother the noise he makes with his fingers for his ears had accommodated finding pleasure over typing itself. He has to hate it at one point, Logan persisted to him but he thinks it’s his second mutation: to love something eventually, since what fate can be given from Above is not a blessing? Everything is, he believes.

He laid back with his arms on his head and said. “Found it.”

“What code?” the Deputy Chief lightened up over the blind windows illuminating his eyes after an observation to a body with a familiar serial number, remembering the loathed tattoo on his forearm, and this doesn’t go unnoticed with the telepath who held his arm where it was before permitting him to scan to the room for what they needed for. 

Scott ran beside him and Pietro’s eyes narrowed and found the code at the end of the table, next to **_DOA_**. “9327-831-928” Then rushed his way next where the others cleaned up their traces, turning off the computer and on the clock for the door.

“Do you want me to turn on the lights, Erik?”

“No, Charles. I think we found it.”

Scott mumbled with his hands holding his waist, head titled to the left and glancing towards the both men with identical face feature. “A woman named Gaby was shot on site at North Salem School in Westchester County out of...”

Erik replied. “Nothing. There’s no bullet… right?”

“Logan said it diluted.”

“But that doesn’t eliminate the fact that perhaps, the bullet’s still inside her head.”

Pietro parallel to the head of the body grabbed the edge of the blanket and before he reveals it he utters. “Let’s find out.”

 


End file.
